


Give Me A Reason (To Stay)

by Starrie_Wolf



Series: Fic Exchanges [Starrie Wolf] [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Stiles, M/M, Post-Season/Series 04, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 23:08:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3358706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starrie_Wolf/pseuds/Starrie_Wolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek didn't think he'd come back from Mexico alive. Now that he did, he wasn't quite sure what to do with his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Give Me A Reason (To Stay)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [toribeari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/toribeari/gifts).



> Prompt: Misunderstandings trope. Didn't quite turn out that way, but hope you enjoy it nonetheless and get well soon!

“What?” Derek could only _stare_. There was no way he heard what he thought he had heard, was there?

Standing across him, Stiles folded his arms over his chest, and then uncrossed them again. “I, uh, asked if you’re staying.”

No, he didn’t hear wrong after all.

“Because, uh, Scott is the bestest best friend ever, but he isn’t born to this werewolf business, not like you,” Stiles tacked on, hurriedly, before Derek could open his mouth and ask why. “And once word of this True Alpha thing gets out – I mean, just look at the Calaveras – Beacon Hills is going to be absolutely swamped with bad guys. And Chris Argent isn’t going to be around this time. So. We need someone around who really knows what he’s doing.”

Oh. Oh, yes, of course.

Stiles was all but vibrating out of his skin, one foot bouncing on the floor, smelling a little wary and excited at the same time.

He was useful. Of course, why else would Stiles – smart, witty, Stiles – want Derek to stay? At least he was honest about it (unlike Peter, unlike Jennifer, unlike _Her_ , a little voice whispered in the back of his head, a voice that he shut out).

“Hey, you in there?” Derek jerked back when a hand inserted itself into his vision, waving in front of his face. Stiles was crouched on the floor, brows faintly creased. “Are you tired? Is it that resurrection voodoo thing?”

Derek scrubbed a hand over his face, pointedly ignoring the barrage of questions. “Yeah, all right.”

At least here, he could feel useful.

~*~*~*~

The loft was too big, too empty for one person, now, after he’d become accustomed to the presence of another. Derek opened his eyes, sighing as he checked the time on his phone.

Stupid.

He swung his legs out of bed, knowing he wasn’t likely to fall back asleep any time soon. Padding silently to the window, his gaze tracked up to the gibbous moon. It would be full soon.

When would he learn?

Fur flowed over his skin at a mere thought, rippling down his body as he fell to all fours. Being a wolf was easier; his thoughts seemed to be more distant, more disconnected. The wolf was more concerned with the here and now than it was with the past or future, and it made things better, a little more bearable.

He’d outgrown his usefulness to her.

Derek trotted over to the door, yanking on the rope tied to the handle to open it, and disappeared down the stairs. A run in the Preserve would clear his head.

~*~*~*~

Somehow, and he wasn’t sure how, he ended up in front of the Stilinski residence. Derek sniffed the air, catching the faint scent of engine oil, Scott, Lydia, Malia, the Sheriff, and Stiles himself. No one whose scent he didn’t recognise had come by.

Satisfied, Derek sat down on his haunches, listening to the soothing pair of heartbeats coming from inside the house.

~*~*~*~

“You know, when my Dad said there’s a wolf sleeping in the backyard, I didn’t think he meant that _literally_.”

Derek startled awake, nearly tripping over his limbs as he did so. There was a shadow looming above him, and it took him a moment to recognise who it was.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “It’s a really good thing I told him about your new transformation, or you’d be getting a far less welcoming wake-up call. Like a shotgun to the face.” He tilted his head to the side, musing out loud, “Unless that’s in his office. But he’d still have his service pistol on him, and even if those bullets don’t contain wolfsbane I bet they’d still hurt, not that I’d know, since I’ve never been shot –”

“Stiles.”

He almost added a _what are you doing here_ out of habit, before realising how stupid that would sound. This was Stiles’ house, of course he would be here, more to the point, why hadn’t he asked why _Derek_ was here yet?

Stiles’ open mouth snapped closed, and then opened again, but the only sound that came out was a sort of choked wheeze.

Derek blinked at him.

“ _Dude_. Clothes.”

Derek glanced down involuntarily at himself, already knowing he would see. He had only reverted back to human form to shut Stiles up, but those words were a jarring reminder that yes, he was naked.

“I, uh – right.”

Black fur rippled over his human skin before anything even more idiotic could come out of his mouth, and in moments he was once again in wolf form.

Stiles didn’t say anything more, and Derek took that as his cue to leave. Before he found out first-hand whether the shotgun with the wolfsbane-laced bullets was still in the Stilinski house.

~*~*~*~

Stiles never came around anymore.

That was one of the things that stood out most starkly for Derek. Before the deadpool and the fiasco that was Mexico, Stiles used to hang around the loft all the time. Derek would come back from a run in the Preserve to find papers scattered across the dining table, Stiles presiding over the chaos with his laptop, an uncapped marker dangling from his mouth. Sometimes they were homework-related, sometimes not – depending on what had caught Stiles’ fancy on Wikipedia that day.

He’d learnt to buy groceries for two instead of one, something Braeden had never questioned. Or maybe she already knew, he didn’t ask and she didn’t offer.

(Don’t think about her.)

Other times, the nights Derek soon learnt when Sheriff Stilinski was taking a night shift, Stiles would turn up with a change of clothes and commandeer his couch.

On one such night, he’d woken up to Stiles’ face looming over him, eyes glittering in the moonlight.

“Three seconds.” Stiles had sounded pleased for some reason, satisfaction oozing out of his skin.

Derek had raised an eyebrow at him, waiting for him to get to the point.

“It took you three seconds to realise I was standing over you. You’d also notice if I left the loft, wouldn’t you?” Stiles’ tone was nonchalant, but Derek could hear the tell-tale uptick of his heartbeat, smell the anxiety gradually coming over the teenager the longer Derek remained silent.

“Yes.”

Stiles breathed out a sigh, almost unnoticed in the wave of sheer _relief_ pouring out from him.

“My Dad, he can take care of himself, but he – he might hesitate. You – you’d slam my face into the floor first and ask questions later.” Stiles rolled his shoulders, the tension seeping out of them. “And I – and even _he_ – won’t be able to beat you in a fight, with your werewolf powers.”

Derek just nodded, and closed his eyes pointedly, hearing Stiles pad back to the couch.

He was useful.

That was all he needed to be.

~*~*~*~

A wolf howl, sounding oddly distorted but still unmistakeable, ripped through the silence of the night.

Derek blinked rapidly, and it was instinct to lift his snout to the sky, to howl out a response. It probably shouldn’t have surprised him that the Pack couldn’t go a month without trouble – the Curse of Beacon Hills, Stiles would say, if he had been around. He didn’t recognise the voice, though. Who had that been?

He would soon find out anyway. Derek burst through the last few trees, eyes taking in the scene at a single glance. There was a dark silhouette he didn’t recognise grappling with Sheriff Stilinski, but it wasn’t difficult to see one of them was clearly overpowering the other. Stiles was hovering nearby with a baseball bat, but it had either proven ineffectual or he was afraid of hitting his father.

Noticing the new threat, the other figure half-rose from the prone form of the Sheriff. Derek didn’t waste time snarling a greeting, and a single bound took him within range, tackling the invader off Stiles’ father with his bulk and momentum. His sharp ears caught Stiles breathing out his name, and then all his attention was focused on the newest threat to Beacon Hills.

At first glance, the man didn’t look like much – but then, the most dangerous people rarely did. He’d learnt that the hard way. Derek could feel his claws digging into the man’s clothes, but where they should have torn through flesh, they were instead blocked by something smooth and cold that his claws only scrabbled off. Any remnant of doubt that the other person was completely innocent vaporised. He’d come prepared to fight against something that could shred flesh like paper.

Derek pushed himself off before the other man could bodily throw him off, landing on all fours between the Stilinskis and the unknown assailant.

The other man climbed slowly to his feet, and in a motion almost too quick to follow a pair of Tasers appeared in his hands, buzzing ominously. Derek’s eyes tracked them warily, planting his feet more firmly. Electricity wouldn’t kill a werewolf, but it would _hurt_.

As if to prove his point, the other man smirked nastily, and suddenly the crackling noise intensified, until it almost hurt to look directly at the devices. He doubted those were emitting electricity within the boundaries set by safety regulations anymore, but he had no choice. Derek bent his legs, preparing to spring. He only hoped Stiles had gotten his father to safety.

Arcs of electricity danced over his fur as he collided with the invader, and Derek bit back a howl of pain, his hind leg going into uncontrollable spasms. He backed off a few paces as another full-body shudder ran through him. Not good, his left leg was going numb.

“Is the big bad wolf afraid of a little static?”

Derek bared his fangs to show the man exactly what he thought of that threat, to which the other simply smirked in reply. His werewolf healing was the only thing keeping him in the fight now, and they both knew it. Derek needed to get the Tasers away from the hunter – and he was probably a hunter, given their propensity towards electrocuting their enemies – as fast as possible.

He charged again, and this time fur receded down his back mid-leap, his front limbs lengthening into arms. By the time he was on top of the hunter his eyes were flashing beta blue, his arms forcing the Tasers to discharge harmlessly into the ground with beta-enhanced werewolf strength.

The glint of something metallic in the moonlight was the only warning Derek got before he had to let go, rearing back slightly, and even then the knife hidden in the back of the Taser clipped his skin in a long shallow cut. He hissed in pain, and from the other Taser shot out an electrified blade, catching him in the side. He went sprawling, instinctively raising a hand to press against the first cut, despite knowing that it would heal within – wait. It wasn’t healing.

The hunter grinned, a sharp white slash in the shadow of his face, and lifted his blade again. Derek’s nose twitched at the unmistakeable odour clinging to its surface. Wolfsbane. Great, just what he needed. He tried to stagger to his feet, but his side _blazed_ , and for a moment he lost control of his entire right side altogether. Werewolf healing kicked in, but not quickly enough. He wouldn’t make it in time. Derek threw up an arm in a futile attempt to protect his head as the man stepped closer, close enough to kick Derek savagely in the shin with his combat boot.

Stiles rose out of the shadows like an avenging angel, and brought his baseball bat squarely down upon the unsuspecting hunter’s skull with a loud _crack_. The man folded forwards like a puppet, and Derek barely pushed himself out of the way in time. He still couldn’t hold back a minute wince when the Tasers landed right where he had been a moment ago, still crackling threateningly.

Stiles was breathing hard, clutching his bat like a lifeline, but he managed to give Derek a weak wave when he saw the other watching. “Thanks for the save, man.”

“How did you –” Derek gestured vaguely. “The wolf howl?”

“Phone,” Stiles gasped, breathing deeply. “Recorded something off YouTube. Thought it might come in handy some day.”

“Yeah,” Derek agreed and tried to sit up, only to be reminded of the cut on his chest. “Got a lighter?”

Stiles’ eyes narrowed, zeroing on the cut, which was sluggishly bleeding black.

“Here.” An arm came into view, a lighter extended. Derek took it with a muttered thanks, flopping down on the grass on his back. The Sheriff yelped when Derek clicked the lighter on and began scouring the wound, only to be held back from intervening by Stiles. Derek was glad for the assist, because he wasn’t sure he could have stopped the Sheriff in his state. His hand was shaking so much he had to force himself to finish burning every bit of wolfsbane out of the wound, until he was sure there was none of the poison left.

“Stiles!”

There was the sound of an engine being cut off, and then running footsteps.

“Oh, hey guys,” Stiles raised his voice. “You’re late to the party!”

The footsteps slowed, and then stopped. “If your idea of a party involves us getting naked, I’m glad I missed it.”

Before Derek could answer with something suitably cutting, Stiles shot Scott a quelling look. “Wolfsbane.”

The teasing smile dropped from Scott’s face, and he was all business in an instant. “Are you all right?” he directed the question to Stiles, but glanced at Derek to show that he was speaking to both of them.

“Yeah,” Stiles replied quietly. “He attacked my Dad first, but Derek turned up before anything could happen to us.”

As if to punctuate that statement, the hunter stirred. Kira – whom Derek had heard come up with Scott – stepped forwards, katana unsheathed and pointed at his throat in a very clear gesture of _stay still or else_. She snorted at the sparking Tasers, casually kicking them aside. “Who knocked him out?” she wondered out loud.

“Me,” Stiles told them proudly. As emphasis, he shook the baseball bat in his hands, which chose this moment to finally give up the ghost, a large chunk splintering off and dropping onto the ground. The teenager stared in something approaching outrage at the now broken weapon. “I – I’m going to get a _flamethrower_.”

The Sheriff gave his son a _look_.

“Oh, uh, by flamethrower I mean a really big lighter, like, you know, the kind you use to cook flame-grilled patties with? Yep,” he popped the ‘p’, “don’t grilled burgers sound good to you, Dad?”

Sheriff Stilinski looked skyward, as if asking for strength. “So long as I don’t have to call the fire department as well,” he replied dryly. His expression then turned serious. “I’m going to have to call this in. Stiles, get Derek inside, we don’t want questions about why he’s here.”

“Sure thing, Dad,” Stiles came closer, and then frowned down at Derek. “Dude, again, _clothes_.”

“I’m sorry,” deadpanned Derek, struggling to his feet. “Next time I’ll stop by the loft to pick some up first.” He flexed his limbs, and was pleased to find that full mobility had returned.

Sheriff Stilinski rolled his eyes, interrupting whatever clever retort Stiles was about to fire back. “Whatever that’s going on between the two of you, I don’t want to know.”

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?” Stiles turned around, mouth agape, affronted. “ _Dad_!”

The Sheriff didn’t deign to dignify that with an answer, making a shooing motion at Stiles. Scott and Kira were no help either, staring down at their prisoner with their backs facing Stiles, not that it stopped Derek from seeing the lines of Kira’s shoulders quiver slightly in laughter.

He frowned. What were they talking about?

~*~*~*~

He asked as much when they had retreated into Stiles’ bedroom, Derek clad in a pair of Sheriff Stilinski’s sweatpants and the oldest, baggiest shirt Stiles could dig out.

“Why were they laughing at you?”

Stiles tore his gaze away from the window, which overlooked the backyard. “No reason, really.”

Derek stared at him. “You’re lying,” he stated with certainty.

A faint scowl creased Stiles’ forehead and he gave a small huff. “Seriously?” Before Derek could think of a suitable reply, he continued, “You’re not supposed to call me out on it.”

Derek let his eyebrows show what he thought of _that_.

Stiles just shook his head. “You saved my Dad, and so –” he cut himself off abruptly. “Thank you.”

Derek shrugged. “You’re welcome,” he told Stiles, a little knot in his chest that he didn’t even know was there loosening at the acknowledgement he still had a _purpose_. “That’s what I’m here for, isn’t it?”

“That’s what –” Stiles cut himself off again, shaking his head. “Dude, what gave you that idea?”

Derek gave another minute shrug. “It’s what everyone wants with me. To be useful to them.”

Stiles bit his lip. “Braeden wasn’t using you, I don’t think –” he started, and then scrubbed a hand through his hair, radiating frustration. “You just –”

 _Wasn’t enough of a reason for her to stay._ The words hung between them in the deafening silence.

He could almost visibly see the wheels in Stiles’ head turning, as though this was completely new information to him. “That’s not why I asked you to stay, I asked because I – because we like you.”

“Scott makes for a good alpha,” Derek agreed. “I’m glad to be able to do something to help.”

He couldn’t understand why Stiles smacked his head into the desk at that.

“Okay,” Stiles muttered, rubbing absently at the red patch on his forehead. “This cannot possibly get any more embarrassing. So. They were laughing at me, because you were naked and they are all evil fiends who know I’m really attracted to you.” Despite the bravado injected into his tone, Derek could smell the uncertainty cloaking Stiles, and that above all made him sit up and actually take notice of what Stiles was saying.

“I –” he started. Stopped. “You’re… attracted to me?”

Stiles winced. “Yeah, so, I won’t deny, that’s one reason why I asked you to stay, moving on –”

Derek stared at the teenager in front of him, who wasn’t as skinny as before, and certainly wasn’t completely defenceless. “Are you saying this,” he enunciated clearly, “because you think I would make a good addition to Scott’s Pack?”

Stiles went from awkwardly embarrassed to completely indignant in an instant. “ _Scott_ has nothing to do with who I want to date. Why would you think – Jennifer,” he breathed, and then even more quietly. “ _Kate_.”

“Braeden was hoping I knew something about this legend she was hunting, called the Desert Wolf,” Derek offered, equally quietly.

Stiles’ entire face spasmed. “I take back what I said about her,” he muttered viciously, before his expression smoothed out. “I’m not – I mean, urgh, today might as well be Let’s Embarrass Stiles Day, so let’s just make this clear – I think you’re attractive and a really nice person. Absolutely no ulterior motives attached, none, nein, nil –”

“I get it,” interrupted Derek before Stiles could go through his entire vocabulary of words that meant ‘no’. He had a feeling they would be there all night at that rate. There wasn’t a tell-tale uptick of his heartbeat this time, which either meant Stiles was telling the truth or that he was a very accomplished liar. Given what he knew of Stiles, Derek was inclined to want to believe it was the former.

“I’m hoping I would be reason enough for you to stay.” Stiles’ face was open and earnest, a wry twist to his lips, and there was only one thing Derek could say in response to that.

“Okay.”

And Derek _knew_ , when Stiles’ scent melted into something soft and sweet and happy, that he’d made the right choice.

**Author's Note:**

> Tying up loose ends:  
> \- Malia was away at her foster father's place for the night; the Stilinskis are very big on family and I can't see them permanently depriving her father of the daughter he just got back, even if she's not human  
> \- Braeden wasn't using Derek in the strictest sense of the word, but to her the Desert Wolf was more important than anything she had with him  
> \- This is my explanation for why Stiles has a key to Derek's loft in S04  
> \- The Sheriff didn't go for his shotgun because the opponent is a human being and he doesn't kill humans  
> \- Stiles was the one in S01 who found out that "a wolf howls to signal its position to the Pack", and thus by howling he could attract wolves' attention. To be on the safe side, he also speed-dialled Scott at the same time.  
> \- Derek isn't emotionally constipated; just wary of relationships in general because every single relationship he's ever had - shall we count them? The first one killed just about his entire family, the second one was (also) a mass murderer, the third one was the first who genuinely liked him, but evidently not enough.  
> \- Post-Nogitsune Stiles is a lot less of a flailing ball of limbs part of the time (especially outside school), and more withdrawn, more mature. When Lydia charged out of the school because she felt someone die in S03E24, Stiles ran out the door right after her despite the fact that he was still very weak. Because he was afraid it had been Derek who'd died (see the parallel between the S03B and S04 finales). This was probably when he realised that he'd started to develop feelings for Derek as a person.
> 
> [I have a Tumblr if you're interested!](starriewolf.tumblr.com)


End file.
